


Comotose

by Ruriska



Series: Sleeping Habits [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shimadacest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: Hanzo is a good brother.





	Comotose

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler: hanzo isn't actually a good brother
> 
> This is the final installment of the Sleeping Habits series, and it probably wouldn't have seen the light of day, at least not as it is now, without some well-timed perfect advice from Vrunka. I'm head-over-heels grateful because now I can proudly drop this delightfully messed up work down for you to read. Go read all of Vrunka's stuff, it's all good, and say a big thank you because I'm serious my first draft of this was a skeleton man that needed flesh on his bones.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

Genji drinks.

His head tips back, his throat works, Adam’s Apple bobbing. He refuses to meet Hanzo’s gaze, hasn’t for weeks. Not since Hanzo woke up with cum drying on his face. 

But he accepts the drink, takes it down. 

His nose wrinkles slightly at the burn. 

“Thanks,” he says before he rejoins his friends.

It’s a party. Hanzo isn’t sure whose it is exactly but they are rich enough for white furniture and plenty of drugs. There’s dancing and music and sex. 

Hanzo reclines, watches. His legs are crossed, his gaze follows Genji around the room. His brother’s movements are jerky because of it, his laughter slightly too loud. His attempts to appear relaxed and happy make his discomfort all the more obvious. 

He keeps glancing over, brown eyes flicking quickly to the side where his brother sits before refocusing forward. 

Hanzo doesn’t come to parties.

But he is here now.

He wouldn’t miss this one for the world. 

When the drink hits, Genji’s words slur and he stumbles, hand reaching out to catch himself on something, anything. The wall is too far away but Hanzo is there, arms around his shoulder, keeping him upright.

By the time Hanzo lays him down in the back seat, he is already gone.

Hanzo pets his hair throughout the car ride; runs his fingers through that shocking green, the regrowth dark and obvious. Genji isn’t maintaining it as well as he used to.

He slides his fingers across Genji’s mouth.

They come away stained with red lipstick. 

He shifts his hand down to Genji’s throat, can feel the windpipe when he presses down. Without fail he is hit by that now familiar rush of power, of having his brother’s life in his hands. Hanzo has sought this out in other places, taken on tasks far beneath a heir of the Shimada simply to use his sword and have his enemies kneel at his feet.

But it isn’t the same.

He carries his brother to his room. 

The world is quiet, peaceful. 

He takes his time fucking his brother. There isn’t any rush. The drugs he put in the drink will keep his brother out for hours. This is the - _two, three, four_ , he counts silently in his own mind, a vivid rush of images - fifth time and there won’t be any surprises. Only the familiar tight heat of his brother’s ass. 

But it’s not as good as the first time.

It never will be. 

To make up for it, he lets himself leave marks. He bites, careless, leaves deep patterns in the skin that well with tiny red pearls of blood. He creates bruises, his fingertips pressing into the flesh, coiling around Genji’s throat like a vice. It makes Genji gag once, still unconscious, throat moving desperately. It’s only then that Hanzo pulls back, for fear of accidentally making him vomit.

Shame is a long buried emotion.

The dragons have won that battle.

Dragons never feel shame. They take what they want without remorse.

“Do you remember who I was with last night?” Genji asks him later, intruding on Hanzo’s training. Dark bruises ring his eyes, his movements are lethargic and slow, and he keeps swaying, as if barely able to keep himself upright.

Hanzo’s sword swishes through the air, halts. The blade turns, pulls back. Arms tensed, feet parted, stance rock steady. He breathes through his nose, imagines a fake enemy before him, as good as dead.

“No,” he replies, curt.

His sword cuts through his imaginary foe with deadly precision. 

Genji’s fingers linger at his throat as he watches, covering the tender skin.

_Six, seven, eight._

Genji stops going out. Hanzo is forced to treat him gentler, to try hide his sins afterwards.

“A friend visited you last night,” he tells Genji over breakfast.

His brother picks at his pickled plums. His lips are dry. 

“Who was it?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” Hanzo shrugs, careless. “Drink your miso.”

Genji is losing weight. Hanzo can feel it when he runs his hands down his brother’s body. His legs are too skinny, the muscles less defined. He tuts over Genji’s still form and slaps him lightly, admonishing. There is no reaction. There never is. 

But this won’t do.

Hanzo would never let his sword rust, nor would he let Genji waste away. 

It is obvious what he needs to do.

He becomes a good brother.

Attentive, gentle, encouraging.

Genji seems surprised and uncertain with the sudden change in demeanour, yet he responds, slowly and with burgeoning hope. He agrees to the training, he finishes every meal, he blushes awkwardly when Hanzo reaches over to wipe away a stray grain of rice.

They are closer now than they have been in years. 

It takes all of Hanzo’s self-control to hold back, to give him time to recover but he does and his brother starts to smile again. The simmering lust that has always lurked between them is not quite as shameful now. Not with the way Genji brushes the back of their hands together as they walk through the garden together, or turns to share a laugh, or how his gaze lingers on Hanzo’s lips. 

Hanzo encourages it with small gestures of his own because it pleases him to know that he is on Genji’s mind, that his brother can look and think of nothing else. That his dominion is complete. 

Absorbed into his own game Hanzo’s actions become more instinct than calculations. He can almost believe he really is the good brother is he is pretending to be. 

It’s on a quiet night together with Genji curled up trustingly against his side and a bottle of wine half finished on the table that the count reaches nine. Genji turns his head, soft and sweet, and kisses him. The angle is off, he only gets Hanzo’s chin, his lips are trembling. Hanzo turns his head lazily, allows the contact.

They kiss.

Their first real kiss.

It is a gentle exchange of breath.

They turn into each other, shift on the couch, limbs slowly sliding together, tangling.

Genji’s eyes are clear and bright, too alive. This isn’t what Hanzo is used to. His brother’s gaze is so full of hopeful desire, not the glazed and faraway look he has come to know so well. Hanzo can’t meet it and so buries his face into Genji’s neck instead, sucks at the skin, seeks something familiar but when he bites down there is an answering moan that he has never heard before. Genji tilts his head, offers himself up and Hanzo instantly pulls away.

His brother follows him, another kiss, wet and needy.

He can’t seem to sense Hanzo’s uncertainty, is too full of mindless lust, finally allowed what has been denied him for years. Would he even want this if he knew what Hanzo had already claimed from him? 

Genji straddles Hanzo’s lap, rides down on him, undoes buttons with practised hands. Hanzo grabs at his hips to keep him steady, it looks like encouragement but it’s the only thing stopping him from throwing Genji off, tossing this vibrant creature from his lap and onto the floor. He’s too alive, too powerful, this is his element and Hanzo is drowning, unable to keep up.

In an effort to make this work, to keep the game going, Hanzo turns them into the couch, rolls himself on top. Genji’s legs wrap around his back, his hips arch, seeking contact. When Hanzo grinds down into him, he can feel just how hard his brother is. But the tight knot in Hanzo’s gut isn’t lust, it’s despair. 

Genji’s mouth is parted, his lips are shiny. His cheeks are rosy red and his eyes, _those damn eyes_ , sear through Hanzo. This isn’t working. But he tries. He ruts against him, draws helpless moans from his brother with the friction, and desperately imagines his brother lifeless. Imagines wrapping his hands around Genji’s neck until his eyes roll back and he can be fucked quietly and properly. He wants him to shut up, if only he will shut up, please.

This isn’t going to be enough.

“You need to fuck me,” he pants into Genji’s neck. 

It’s the only way they can do this now.

His guilt is a strange thing; he can’t help but wonder what could have been if Genji hadn’t walked out that door that first morning. If instead of leaving Hanzo alone and his lust to fester, to warp into something twisted, they could have had something normal. Or as normal as fucking your own brother can be. But there isn’t any going back and Hanzo knows he has always been broken.

“Okay,” Genji’s purrs, his hands touching everywhere, sliding under clothing and pressing into his skin. Hanzo feels smothered by it.

They change positions and remove their clothing; Hanzo’s final garment falls unwillingly from his curled fingers. 

Genji’s cock is red and glistening, bouncing eagerly. In comparison Hanzo is still soft; his cock hasn’t so much as twitched but he doesn’t give his brother enough time to be concerned before he is turning himself over in offering. His fingers pulls at his cheeks, dig into the flesh until they leave white marks in the skin and his entrance is bared.

Hanzo wants to want this but he can’t find it in him. So instead he hopes to ride it out, get past the moment and work out a solution later. 

Genji fusses behind him, his hands touch everywhere, leaving unpleasant goosebumps on Hanzo’s skin. “I need - lube, I should,” Genji is muttering, his wet thumb an unwelcome guest at Hanzo’s hole. It presses inwards, breaches the rim in gentle pushes. Hanzo tenses around that questing digit. 

“Hanzo, oh Hanzo,” Genji breathes.

He sounds so enamoured, so shaken.

“Just fuck me, Genji. I want you,” Hanzo grounds out the words, must somehow be convincing because Genji leans into him, finds his mouth and kisses him desperately. He is a broad weight across Hanzo’s back, sweaty chest pressed against him. 

“Let me just, I’ll be back in a moment.”

He leaves, really is only a moment, and Hanzo takes those precious few seconds to strengthen his resolve. He touches himself quickly, tries to stroke some life into his cock. Then Genji returns with the lube because his brother wants to do this right, of course he does.

His fingers are so very gentle, curling and coaxing. ‘Is that good?’ and ‘is this okay?’ are repeated over and over until Hanzo wants to scream. When he dares to look back over his shoulder, Genji looks troubled, brow furrowed. His cock is flagging slightly, dipping down as Hanzo continues to remain unresponsive.

But when Hanzo demands to be fucked, the strength of the command convinces Genji to finally replace the fingers with his dick. Hanzo thought it would be a welcome change but as soon as Genji is pushing inside him, he nearly climbs out of his own skin. He would rather have a blade in his gut, digging in with cold steel. 

Genji is all over him, all around him, his hot breath in his ear, panting, wanting, giving slow jerks of his hips. This spiralling loss of control is startling. All of Hanzo’s blood is rushing between his ears, his head feels like it wants to explode. He wants to throw Genji off and knock him down. His chest constricts.

The dragons are burning, coiling, _shrieking_. 

They want to use and consume. 

Not be used -- not like this, not by something that they have devoured before over and over.

“You’re still not hard,” Genji groans into his ear, his hand groping between Hanzo’s thigh, handling the limp flesh he finds there. As if Hanzo hadn’t noticed yet, as if he isn’t aware of the mess this was. “Hanzo you’re-”

“Just finish,” Hanzo snarls. There is nothing nice about him now, no comforting brother, just the frustrated anger that burns him from the inside out.

Genji swears and pulls back slightly but still burning within Hanzo like a brand. “You’re not... enjoying this at all, are you?” He asks, already knows the answer, the bitterness of it in his tone. He swears once more and the chuckle that escapes him is closer to a sob. “Is it me? It’s because I- oh god.” His brother’s head sinks, rests between Hanzo’s shoulder blades.

“I said,” Hanzo grits out, his tone vicious, “finish.”

Hanzo braces himself on his elbows, though he fully expects his brother to pull off and away, to run from this realisation. Instead his brother chokes on a broken sound, draws himself back - and slams back in. It shocks a yell from Hanzo. He instinctively jerks away but Genji grips his hips, pulls him back in to meet his next thrust.

It is unexpected and frightening and when Hanzo turns his head to look over his shoulder, to get a glimpse of a brother he didn’t know existed, the expression he finds makes his gut cramp in panic. Like a rabbit caught in a snare. There are tears streaming down Genji’s cheeks but his stare is resolute and his teeth are bared.

Genji doesn’t let up. 

Scrambling to breathe with the air punched from his lungs each time Genji pounds into him, Hanzo spreads his knees wider and takes it as best he can. He deserves this. He accepts it. He sinks somewhere deeper where Genji’s cries and his sobbing and his heat and his hands can’t reach him.

Even so he hears the words whispered in his ear as Genji groans and jerks to his messy completion, “I love you, I love you so much, why are we like this? Is that really the only way?” It isn’t really a question. There’s too much resignation for it to be one. There’s no escape from what they are.

Afterwards Genji finishes the wine and Hanzo can see the self-loathing on his face as he gulps it straight from bottle. The red liquid escapes from the corner of his mouth, dribbles down his chin. There’s still cum warm and sticky in Hanzo’s ass, everything aches and he hasn’t moved from where he rolled over to his side once Genji pulled away. 

Genji keeps touching him, rubbing in what he presumes is meant to be a soothing manner but his hand is trembling and he looks on the verge of crying again. His eyes are red and puffy. Hanzo says nothing. He can feel his rage coiled like a snake in his chest, waiting for a better time to strike. 

They stay together in silence for hours. 

Then the wine is long gone and Genji is comatose, slumped on the couch with his hand still curled around Hanzo’s ankle. The slack look on his face, the simple lacking that comes with unconsciousness, is what finally rouses Hanzo. It makes him sit up and draw closer, trace a finger along one of the marks he left earlier. He longs to dig in and so he does, sinks his fingernails deep into flesh.

He deals with his erection quickly and efficiently. It’s almost a joke how eager his cock is now, springing into his hand as if he has been hard for hours, when being fucked raw by his brother achieved nothing. 

Only then does Hanzo realise he can’t get off in any other way. That only the sight of his brother unconscious and at his mercy is able to make him hard. Nothing else can make his dick so much as twitch.

Genji stirs once, opens his eyes as Hanzo smears his cum across his face in petty retribution. There’s something in his gaze, some deep and sad understanding. Then he turns his head to the side and lets the alcohol carry him away once more.

Days pass by, then weeks. They talk, stilted conversation at first. Genji never says sorry. Hanzo had expected him to apologise but he doesn’t. Instead Hanzo watches as Genji tries to return their relationship to before that night; displays Hanzo his finished bowl at dinner time, invites him to join him for walks, seeks hesitant touches with shaking fingers. 

Hanzo isn’t sure how it is possible to both adore and loathe someone at the same time. The desire and affection that wells up in his chest when he imagines holding his brother down and squeezing the life out of him.

They close the gap again, such caring brothers. 

Hanzo turns on the tap in the bathroom.

Water rushes into the glass.

Too much. He tips some out.

The drugs dissolve quickly. The liquid is clear and deceptively innocent. 

He needs to get off, needs this. It’s been too long. 

There’s a noise behind him, the barest rustle of clothing and Hanzo turns. Genji stares at him from the doorway, his cheeks are flushed, his breathing rapid. Hanzo holds still, the full glass in his hand. How long have you been there? How much did you see? Do you know? He wants to ask but he won’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway. 

Genji’s gaze flicks from the full glass to Hanzo. 

His lips part but no voice comes out.

Hanzo watches each twitch as whatever thoughts are running through his mind manifest on Genji’s face as little tics. His hand tightens on the glass until he is certain it will shatter. He thinks of tipping it out, letting it fall, of holding Genji down and making him swallow every last drop.

There’s a hissing in the back of his mind.

White noise.

Dragons.

They want to consume, to control, to devour. They can’t fathom an end.

Hanzo can.

It’s almost a relief.

Except it isn’t because he knows he will never be able to let go. That he will find some way to take what he wants, and if Genji tries to deny him... 

Then Genji moves, his arm rises slowly and it takes a long time for Hanzo to realise that Genji is reaching out. That when his arm stops and his fingers stretch, it’s with a request. The twitches on his face have settled, leaving only a terrible aching acceptance and maybe, judging by the sudden feverish brightness in his eyes, eagerness. 

Hanzo hands him the glass.

Triumphant. 

Exultant.

Their eyes meet, sharing an avalanche of words that will never be spoken out loud. 

And Genji drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's the end of that little journey with our messed up sons. Feel free to toss me any questions and comments here or on tumblr!


End file.
